Page 74 of My Own True Duchess
“You have other theories, I’m sure.”
Well, yes. “Is Quimbey angry, such that his brother’s son must be made to pay for all the drama and scandal of years ago?”
Theo should have scoffed at that notion, though she didn’t.
Dear old Quimbey had shown Jonathan his temper once, in the headmaster’s office. Since then, the duke had been a genial, not quite doting uncle. He hadn’t been able to afford to dote.
“What evidence do you have of your uncle’s vendetta?” she asked.
Good word. “None, save the debt.”
“If he’d been intent on ruining you, might he not have done a more thorough job? Peers cannot be jailed for debt.”
The anxiety roiling in Jonathan’s gut eased. “Ruin is all too easy to accomplish. You’re right. Quimbey is not intent on ruining me.”
“I have faced ruin,” Theo said, her head on Jonathan’s shoulder. “It’s terrifying. You worry most for your dependents. You worry that they’ll be sent away to one of those horrid schools with high walls and short rations, where they learn misery and bitterness. To have disappointed Diana and Seraphina like that… The shame would have broken me, Jonathan. They rely on me, and I cannot fail them.”
Jonathan tucked an arm around Theo’s shoulders, for Lord Penweather—the man who should have protected her—had dangled this horror before her.
“You think Quimbey is ashamed?” Jonathan tried on that notion and found it credible.
“If the former duke was a wastrel like your father, then Quimbey was largely at the mercy of solicitors when he took on the title. The solicitors were useless to me when Archie died. Anselm stepped in, and that was helpful. My banker, a man who comes from nothing, was helpful. Lady Canmore sent the vultures packing when they began to gather even before the funeral. The lawyers, by contrast, fussed and sent bills.”
“Not my lawyers,” Jonathan said. “They damned well do as I tell them to do and they know that their invoices will be subjected to ferocious scrutiny. I sit on various boards of directors, and my greatest contribution to those organizations is my ability to inspect financial documents and detect errors and omissions others overlook.”
Theo tucked closer. “Scrutiny is a cure for many ills. I look forward to the day when I can scrutinize you, Mr. Tresham, in a big, comfy bed with a cozy fire going nearby.”
The rain drummed on the coach roof, the horses clip-clopped along on the wet cobbles, and Jonathan relaxed.
Theo had not failed him. She had not reacted to the bad news with drama, or worse, a suggestion that the wedding date be indefinitely postponed. That possibility had flitted through his mind like the stink of a dead mouse pollutes a spotless parlor.
Nasty, wrong, undeniable.
“I meant what I said,” Jonathan murmured against her ear.
“I believe you. The dukedom will come right in time, and I will do all in my power to help.”
She had faith in him. Perhaps Quimbey had faith in him too. Jonathan preferred Theo’s version—honest and immediate.
“I meant it when I said I love you.” He was glad she was snuggled against him, so he could hold her as a combination of terror and joy pushed aside thoughts of the ducal finances. “You did not fly into the boughs when I dropped looming tragedy in your lap. You did not castigate me for being the bearer of bad news. You are here, with me, plotting a solution.”
To admit his troubles even to Theo was disquieting, but perhaps that had been the flaw in his parents’ marriage: They had each remained alone, despite having spoken their vows. Their infidelities had likely begun outside the bedroom, rather than started there.
“If we are to be man and wife,” Theo said, “and I dearly hope we are, then I will not tolerate being kept in the dark, Jonathan. I’ve seen that approach. It has nothing to recommend it when difficulties arise, and it further implies that all I contribute to the marriage are pleasures you can purchase elsewhere.”
Theo had shared her difficulties with Jonathan, and her honesty had allowed him to see more clearly.
And to love her. “The greatest pleasures cannot be had for coin,” he said. “I should get out here.” He would rather have spent the rest of the afternoon with Theo, even in this coach, simply rolling from street to street in the rain.
“I don’t want to part from you,” she said. “You make a very comfortable pillow, and this conveyance has much to recommend it.”
Jonathan could not arrive on Frannie’s doorstep in a state. “Lady Canmore will know if we’ve been canoodling. She will tease you, and that will be my fault.”
Lady Canmore had arrived at The Coventry last night with Casriel in tow as Jonathan had been leaving. She’d been too busy lecturing Casriel on some vital point to even glance Jonathan’s way, not that he’d mention seeing her there.
“I thought canoodling was one of the pleasures of being engaged.”
“I haven’t properly proposed, Theo. You deserve the bended knee, showy ring, public announcement—the whole bit.”
